


i can't keep them in my head

by kyoloren



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Character Death, Choking, F/M, Monsters, Nightmares, Possible Character Death, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyoloren/pseuds/kyoloren
Summary: Ben Solo, secluded in the dark woods, is plagued by nightmares and voices that he can't get out of his head.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	i can't keep them in my head

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling some kinda way (2020 depression™) and wrote this while listening to [Madison Davenport's "Monsters"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQYGOfy7XfM) on repeat.
> 
> Originally it was going to be more cryptid/monster!Rey based, but it turned into a sort of psychological horror/thriller thing.

* * *

_Come find me_.

Ben Solo woke with a start, gasping and bolting upright in bed. He was drenched in sweat, heart thundering in his chest. His eyes darted around the room, expecting someone to be there in the darkness, but he saw nothing.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, he turned on the lamp and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He slumped forward, fingers tangled in his hair, the heels of his feet pressed against his closed eyelids.

He’d been plagued with nightmares for weeks—months now—and he didn’t know what to do about them. He rarely remembered much about them, but tonight was different. He remembered feeling cold and alone, insignificant. And he remembered a voice, though he couldn’t duplicate it in his head.

A voice that spoke to him.

Eyes flying open, he got to his feet and dragged a dusty duffle from underneath his bed. Frantically, he pulled warm clothes out of his dresser and shoved them into his bag, along with an ancient family heirloom compass and a canteen from his father’s army days. By the time he reached the front door, he had pulled on pants and shirt, tugged suspenders over his shoulders and layered on a thick flannel shirt. Lacing up his boots took the most amount of time, and then he was out of the cabin.

He lived secluded for a reason—to atone for sins past that society could not forgive him for—and yet he’d never felt truly lonely until tonight.

Growing up, he had heard tales of beasts and monsters, gods and witches, but he had always thought them to be just stories. But now he wasn’t so sure.

He took his rusted old truck, surprised it still worked, and drove all the way to town. By the time he got there, the sun was rising and a chill ran down his spine. Gripping the steering wheel, Ben parked outside the general store and got out, shoving a quarter into a machine and grabbing a newspaper from inside.

Secluded back in the cab, he flipped through the pages. He didn’t know what he was looking for until it jumped out at him and he felt like he’d been doused in ice.

**_Third local gone missing this month near Mortis Peak._ ** ****

The article underneath recounted an old wive’s tale about a creature who lived in the woods who used to snatch up townsfolk if they neglected to give the thing offerings. The town no longer believed in such tales, but the loss of hikers seemed to suggest that maybe they should.

With his breath short and shallow, Ben turned on his truck and started driving through town, toward the thicker, wilder forests. The voice from his dream started to echo through his mind as he drove closer:

_Come find me. Come find me. Come find me._

It got louder and Ben squinted out of the windshield. The sky should have been getting lighter, but it was still dark—an inky thick darkness that swallowed up the headlights.

The wheel twisted of its own accord under his hands and Ben exclaimed, trying to get ahold of it as the truck careened off the road and into the woods, narrowing missing trees. Ben slammed on the brakes and the truck responded slowly, only stopping when the grill hit a tree, hard.

Ben flew forward, knocking against the wheel and windshield with the impact. He slid back into the worn seat, trying to suck in air.

_Find me._

_Find me, Ben._

_Find. Me._

Reaching blindly for the door handle, he tumbled out of the truck and onto the cool, plush earth covered in needles and rotting leaves. Sucking in breaths through his mouth, he tried to make sense of where he was, but everything was dark.

The words echoed through his mind, slipping away before he could catch hold of them, like water through his fingers. 

Getting to his feet, Ben had enough sense to grab his bag, turning on the flashlight and shining it into the shadows. He couldn’t see much, but with his trusty compass in hand, he headed west, toward where he knew Mortis Peak should be.

The woods were quiet and loud all at the same time. The _chikchikchik_ of beetle’s mandibles mixed with the haunting call of owls and the shuffle of other nightlife. Ben kept walking, half in a daze, trying to remember his dreams.

He felt colder and colder as he walked, but didn’t stop to put on his coat or gloves or hat. Something compelled him forward, forcing him onward and upward. Trees loomed out of the darkness like sentinels and grabbed at his clothes.

The air grew thick and Ben’s breath shown in the air before his face, puffs of crystalline steam. His boot caught on something and he stumbled, slamming hard against the solid earth, pain shooting up his left arm from the awkward way he fell on his wrist.

The compass skidded across the leaves and then was gone. Darkness descended upon him as he got to his knees, wetness seeping through his pants. He tilted his head back, squinting as the light was snuffed out.

_Find me. Oh, Ben, you found me._

The voice was all around him. He felt as if he were being held by something less than human, wrapped as if by vines or tentacles. He closed his eyes, childhood tales coming back to him about the vengeful witches of Mortis, the ancient death that hung itself at their table.

_You found me_.

Ben heard the voice clearly this time, spoken as a whisper in his ear. He struggled against the hold as a veil was lifted from his memory.

He knew that voice. He knew that it belonged to a girl with tan skin and freckles and the sweetest smile in the whole galaxy. She worked at the store in town, and was the only person nice to him when he came in for his monthly supplies trip.

_Rey_ , he thought and the shadows slunk back as if he had doused them in fire.

A screech rang through his mind and he cried out, clutching his head. As quickly as they’d retreated, the shadows grabbed him again, lifting him off his feet.

_No. She is—they are—we are—no_.

He grappled for anything and his hand brushed the hard bark of a tree. Before he could try again, he was yanked to the side and the barest of lights appeared, barely enough to see by.

He saw nothing but the swirl of darkness.

_Why are you doing this_? he thought as the tendrils tightened, making it harder to breath.

_We are not. You are._ And then he saw the flicker of a face. Rey’s face, but it was distorted with anger.

_Rey_ , he thought again and the shadows rippled.

They tightened around his throat and he gasped, the darkness slipping between his parted lips and pouring into him as he struggled.

He remembered _everything_. He saw himself through Rey’s eyes, walking into the store, eyes wide and dark, her tremble of pity for him. He felt the weariness of living in the woods, chopping wood, hiking into the unknown, nothing but emptiness to occupy himself. And what he had done—what had he done?

He choked and wriggled midair.

Saw himself sleeping, thrashing in bed, and a mysterious black cloud slinking into town from Mortis, prickling fear in anyone still awake and enveloping bodies, taking them away. 

_Come find me_.

Ben’s eyes rolled back and he went limp. 

He woke with a yell and a gasp, ribs nearly cracking from the stuttering pounding in his chest.

“Ben?”

He tensed, fear dripping down his spine, as he twisted. In bed—in _his_ bed—holding a sheet to her chest, was Rey. He relaxed just a little as her hand brushed his back. He smiled weakly at her and lay back down. She cuddled next to him, resting her arm across his chest, pressing her lips to his shoulder.

“They’ll stop eventually,” she said, trailing her hand across his skin. “The nightmares.”

He didn’t think they would. They were as much a part of him now as breathing.

“They will.” Her hand slipped upward, toward his throat.

His eyes fluttered closed, thinking nothing of it until she shifted, pressing down against his windpipe and climbing on top of him, pinning him down. Eyes popping open, horror gripped him, forcing him still.

Rey’s flesh was turning gray, awash of color, and her soft face grew hard and angry, streaks of black tears falling down her cheeks. She gnashed spiked teeth at him as the shadows behind her seemed to grow and envelope her—him—them both.

She leaned down, her cold-as-ice lips brushing his ear. “You did this to me.”

Her hand tightened, nails growing to claws, biting into his skin and—

_You did this to me_.

Ben threw himself to the wooden boards of his floor with the violence of the nightmare. He stayed there, gasping, crying, digging his nails into the soft pine. Splinters bruised his nails and he staggered to his feet. He brought nothing with him this time as he left, bleary eyed, and drove his truck through town. 

He let darkness fold in around him amidst the trees as he stumbled over rocks and slick underbrush.

He yelled until his throat was raw.

“ _Who are you?! What have I done?! What are you doing to me?!_ ” Question after question ripped from his lips.

Finally, at the base of Mortis, he fell to his knees, exhausted and so thin he felt as if he would be brushed aside as easily as a spiderweb.

A cooing sound filled his ears and he felt soft hands touch his hair.

“Oh, Ben.” His mother’s voice.

He stiffened and then crumpled, a man and a child in one.

“My sweet boy, what have you done?” His mother’s hands, paper soft, took his face and forced him to look at her. He saw nothing but her shape, but it was too big, too dark.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said over and over and over.

“Yes, yes you have.” She brushed hair from his face and leaned in close. Her breath smelled sickly sweet. Something dripped from her chin onto his hands—blood.

He scrambled back, hitting a tree trunk. Watched as the darkness roiled like an angry wave, coming toward him. He saw so many faces, heard so many voices.

_This_. _This is what you’ve done_.

Ben’s face was wet and he rubbed his cheeks, smearing crimson. He was numb from cold, refusing to believe what he saw with his own two eyes.

The shadows parted and a pale, smeared form walked toward him. It was Rey, clothes torn, the smile on her face painful and forced. Her lips were blue. 

“Ben,” she said, crouching down in front of him. She tilted her head and he had nowhere to look but at her.

He said her namely weakly, all of his energy gone.

“You can stay.” She held out a hand that fluttered in and out of sight. “You can stay and you won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I-I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” he said, the words dragged out of him. “Did you get hurt?”

“Yes.” She pushed her hand toward him more. “Yes, you hurt me, but now you can be with them—us—me. Be with me.”

He couldn’t see anything in the darkness; no faces. Swallowing hard, he looked at her hand: blink and it was there, blink and it was gone. 

“I’ll help you,” Rey said softly and he saw something in her eyes that reminded him of the sunlit girl at the general store.

His stomach tightened and he grabbed her hand, smearing blood on her wrist, her fingers, her palm. 

The smile she gave him was sad but welcoming. She pulled him to his feet, lacing their fingers together, palm-to-palm. “Close your eyes, Ben.”

“No.” He shook his head. Every time he closed his eyes, someone died, a nightmare wracked his body.

Rey stepped close and the swirling shadows surrounded them. “Close your eyes. It won’t hurt. It’s _you_ , you’re one in the same. And it’s time you returned to us.”

His throat was too dry to swallow. His head filled with the voices of the dead. He couldn’t take it any longer.

Ben closed his eyes.

And darkness filled him.


End file.
